


bestia

by Emeka



Series: mega-fucked stuff [7]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Barely Legal, Bestiality, Cuntboy, M/M, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Past Incest, Past Underage Sex, Trying To Conceive, some nasty thoughts about the dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2020-06-28 01:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19801681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emeka/pseuds/Emeka
Summary: Recently married groom wakes up to the dog eating out the wifey in his sleep. But it gives him a hard-on, so it's okay!





	1. Chapter 1

He wakes up when his slut-spouse next to him smacks him in the face with the back of his hand.

Red-hot rage fills him in an instant and he jumps up, fist and arm itching with anticipation. The look on his Livvy's face stops him before he notices anything else; all flushed and sweaty, lips parted. Maybe he had a wet dream and flailed about? He's insulted he's capable of it when he fucked him good and proper before bed, but he is ovulating. So this once, out of his own kindness, he'll forgive him.

That's when the sound of a loud slurp gets his attention.

He and Livvy have been making a concentrated effort to conceive following their elopement a few months back. Every night he fills Livvy's cunt with his seed, then puts a pillow under him to elevate his hips, and his panties back on to keep every drop inside. Livvy complains sometimes of back pain, but he figures he'd better get used to it for when he's pregnant. Anyway, the thing is, it props up his pussy at a convenient height for, he sees, certain nosy snouts.

He's not sure whether to feel angry or amused. Their dog is a spotted large-breed mutt--some kind of German shepherd with a dash of heeler, he wagers--and seems to be eagerly eating out Livvy, at least as close as it can with fabric in the way (it's not that bright so no surprise it hasn't figured out how to nudge it aside) and of course his slut's pussy responds just as well. He's practically plastered in juice and thick ropes of saliva from his lower belly down to his mid-inner thigh. His white panties are saturated to the point of showing the peach beneath, and even from here, he can see his clitty standing out against the cloth, and how his legs tremble when each lick drags against it. The hot, honey smell of slick and heat hang in the air.

His cock is throbbing. Whatever chance there was of him stopping this dissipates. Still, he'll keep it in his pants until this is over. If Livvy wakes he wants this to keep going without any kind of interference. So he carefully pushes himself up the bed and curls an arm around Livvy, resting his chin on his head. A great view, and if Livvy _does_ wake, he won't know whether he's also awake or not, and won't risk disturbing him to turn his head to check.

Poor, easy Livvy whimpers, shifting, arching his back so that his upper body presses against him. His thigh muscles visibly tighten and the dog licks faster and harder, practically shoving his nose up his cooch to get at him. Tighten, relax, tighten, relax, the dog's saliva getting thicker and sloppier as the little whore has the time of his life.

Eventually the dog (given the empty, meaningless name of Spot) decides it has slaked its thirst enough and climbs neatly on top of Livvy’s gently writhing body. Its eyes meet with his master’s but apparently it has no awareness that it’s doing anything objectionable. Well, you can’t count on a mutt to have any propriety. Something is stimulating it; the taste or smell of Livvy, some animal knowledge of breeding, or the positioning, but its cock is coming out of its sheath.

Not a bad piece either, by the look of it—at least for a dog. As long as a banana and as thick as a soda can. Poor Spot humps against its mistress’ lifted hips, but the panties, even as thin and sodden as they are, are too great a barrier for it to take root. All it can do is huff and drool through its pointless pursual. Slutty Livvy knows a cock even in his sleep and still whimpers, trembles, and—there he goes again! Coming all over the doggy dick rubbing his pussy down.

As his husband, he’d be disappointed if he hadn’t known from the beginning how easy he was. The little tramp is eighteen now, but he’d been tip-toeing over to his house for five years now, and his father and uncle had been having at him before even that. You can’t place your trust and love in an object of so little value. All you can do is pass the time with it. Livvy's only outstanding characteristic is the beauty he was blessed with despite the garbage pit he came from, which made his extreme timidity lovely, rather than pathetic.

Spot finally has enough, for one reason or the other. Maybe it’s giving itself blue balls. It goes back to its usual place on the floor and the loud sound of it slurping resumes. Usually he’d tell it to knock it off—fucking disgusting noise, that—but the sound of him angry might wake up Livvy when nothing else has, and he really wants to rub one out.

He grips his ready cock in his fist and pumps himself while looking at Livvy’s disgraceful body and how deliberately it looks set up to take any and all comers. His thick waves of reddish-brown hair have tumbled all over the pillow and stick in wet strands to his fevered cheeks. Perfectly curved red lips stay slightly parted, whistling in breath, just on the edge of another moan. Chest and belly, both thinly-padded in fat and soft as satin, heave alternately, reminding him of bellows. From here up, Livvy would fit perfectly on a trashy romance novel cover, the very image of an innocent debutante nonetheless ripe with erotic possibility. The bruises on his arm are merely shadows.

Waist down, he’s even less. A shot from a porn shoot. Panties see-through with dog saliva, plastered down to his thighs with it and come. Probably wet the bedsheets, too, the same ones he’s barely consummated their marriage on before giving himself over to the family pet.

God, what a slut. His slut. Orgasm comes quickly, and he allows it to freely rain all over his wifey’s belly. When Livvy wakes up, he’ll just think his adoring husband had another go at him while he was asleep. Anything for the baby, after all.

He rubs his wet fingers into Livvy’s pebbled nipples and contemplates. Spot might be agreeable to another round. And going a little further. Between cock and tongue his own sperm may end up getting displaced but this is just a moment’s fancy. Afterwards he’ll tire of the dog, or get rid of him if he really can’t stand him around. Until then, he’s willing to risk putting off conception.


	2. Chapter 2

He had first met Livvy stopping on the drive to his house. A thousand times probably he had passed this ramshackle dump on his commute, and probably he had seen Livvy before incidentally. But he caught his eye this time. He was all alone, sitting on the steps to his porch, a head of hair that glimmered red in the sunlight, tied back in a loose ponytail. It was bowed into his arms against the summer heat but lifted hopefully as he slowed to take a better look.

The kid had probably been locked out of his house, he decided. It was a little past five and the kid's sweaty face quickly fell again, hiding it, but not before a teary look of misery crossed it.

"Parents not home to let you in?" he called, coming to a stop. Like most school children, he'd dressed simple and light for the weather. Socks, ratty sneakers, shorts he'd outgrown and went up too high but were still loose enough to show the curve of an underwear-clad buttcheek, and an overlarge t-shirt. 

The kid looked up cautiously from his arms--slender and coltish like his legs, and also adorably freckled, tanned a few shades darker than the visible rest of him--and ventured an uncertain 'huh?'

In his experience, kids fall into two categories: brats and dumbasses. This little squirt, with his apparent inability to hear and his vapid expression--

 _Gold_. Hazel, must be, but in the light they are as gold as a wolf's eyes. The rest of him isn't bad, pretty cute despite the dumb look, and hair that will fall quite nicely in waves out of the sporty up-do, but his eyes--like two big shiny gold coins in his face. His breath actually caught a moment before he could repeat himself.

The kid rubbed his peeling soles together, visibly torn between not talking to a stranger and being polite to a grown-up. "My da... went to a friend's. He'll be back soon."

"Awfully hot today, sonny. I think I should call the police."

"No!" The kid stood straight up and went down the steps. Just a few feet now from the door, but he had no intention of forcing him in, even in a neighborhood like this. "Please no, I'm fine. Da'll be back, please, you can't!" 

He hmmed, wondered what kind of man his dad was. Just a dipshit waste of space, he knows now. Someone who pushes around their kid because that's the only person they have any authority over. The kinda guy who gets a dog just to beat it. Spineless. But at the time, he had to consider whether he'd kick up a fuss if he came home to find his kid missing. Well... should be fine. He was being a Good Samaritan, that's all. "Why don't you come with me? I have a nice, cool house... I can get you some water. Or juice. You like juice?"

"I can't." The kid wrung his hands together, took a few steps forward, one back. "I gotta wait."

"If you don't come, I won't have any choice. It's my civic duty."

And finally, finally, the boy with the pretty gold eyes walked reluctantly toward him, arms recrossing nervously over his chest. He watched him approach his back door, said, "I'm not your chauffeur, you know," and noted with interest the automatic way he cringed, then came back around with his head down, shoulders hunched. Easily embarrassed.

The boy sat daintily next to him one limb at a time, and looked too small, all swallowed-up in the seat. Maybe it was the strangness of having a kid in the car, or the out of place comparison of a ragamuffin to his new upholstry.

"Got a name?"

The boy jerked, barely glancing up at him at the same time. "Huh?" Then, immediately, "Olivia. Um, Rossi."

"Well, nice to meet you, Livvy." The kid glanced at him with vague reproach but that's what you get with a name like Olivia, and looking so cute.

The kid didn't ask his name, so he didn't give it. Maybe for the best, depending on how things went. He drove in silence. The kid's eyes were hazel in the shade, still a nice champagne-like brown, but not out of the ordinary.

He lived in a soft loft back then, as he does now, but something in the middle of where he intended his life to eventually end up in terms of quality. Something only good enough for the average person. Livvy's eyes widened as they pulled in to the lot, catching the sun for a brief instant, and he knew--knew this golden-eyed boy must belong to him, become part of the grand future he has planned for himself.

The entire walk to his apartment was in silence. All he could think was please, please let him be equipped right. He'd take him anyway but if he finally got those shorts off to see a cock he'd die. Couldn't properly make him into his little wifey then.

He's not a bad looking guy, himself. They'd have attractive children. And those eyes! It'd be a crime not to pass them on (over and over, preferably).

As weird as it had been to see him in his car, the house was even more so. This tiny human being paused a moment in his living room area, gazing up at the ceiling and high windows with innocent awe. Everything dwarfed him nearly into insignificance.

He kept it simple that first day. No sense in scaring him off. A glass of apple juice and his phone number on a scrap of paper, clenched in his hand. Call me if you get locked out again. Or for anything. He let Livvy watch TV for a few hours until he picked up his father on the phone for a short, monumentally terse exchange. 

When it comes to families like that, there's always trouble eventually. It was only a week until his phone rang from a Mexican restaurant. Livvy in tears.

"Don't worry," he soothed. "I'm on my way." His heart hammered with joy at the prospect of doing a favor for Livvy so soon. Maybe he's just desperate but that he'd call must mean he trusts him--even a little.

On the ride back to his house he patiently interrogated Livvy over what had occurred. The kid was obviously spooked over something but you could tell he wanted to spill his guts. Scared, but hopeful, giving up one word more with each coaxing, with a few pretty tears. Eventually it all came out. His father and uncle had been 'having at' him as he so indirectly put it, and lately he'd been feeling pukey and sore. A few scraped together pennies and a test later confirmed what he'd been dreading (awful news--that someone had already knocked up his Livvy, but at least he knows what's under his shorts).

"So you left home..."

"I didn't know where to go," Livvy sniffed. His eyes looked even prettier like that, swimming in tears. "I just... couldn't stay."

He wandered the neighborhood a few hours with his hands in his pockets, squeezing the scrap of paper in his palm. Finally he made up his mind, gathered his courage, and stepped into the nearest business to ask to use the phone. Of course, no one could refuse such a pretty boy. And one who had obviously been crying? Impossible.

"I can help you get an abortion," he said. "And if you want to talk to someone about your family--" but Livvy was already shaking his head. Fortunately. He didn't really want to get involved in that mess. Another concern was that it could end with Livvy getting sent elsewhere to live; and he couldn't very well adopt him if he planned on marrying him.

"I don't want a baby. But I... I can't do anything else..."

It's enough that his future wife won't be carrying another man's child.

The issue was taken care of and he started him on birth control from a walk-in clinic, both without involvement from his father. "It's best if you keep it secret, so he can't stop you taking it."

Livvy nodded. Quietly, as he'd been most of the day. Gotten past the point of wanting to have his troubles drawn from him to being truly withdrawn. His shoulders raised around his ears as they arrived at his house, saw the old junker in the driveway. Just a little hiccup of a noise and he was out the door, scuffling his shoes up the sidewalk. For a moment he paused, shoulders trembling, like he'd invert into his body if he could, then went still and somehow hard before going inside.

No, not hard. Resigned.

Livvy slid back and forth between their houses. Neither of them spoke much about their personal lives. Things were always here and now, going out to a movie, breakfast at a restaurant, walking at the park so he could feed those honking monstrosities and shyly approach joggers to pet their dogs. 

From the start he tolerated his touch well. His eyes closed, squeezing a little, when he brushed his hair out of his face with his fingers. His bones inside him felt like they shied away when he touched his arm. But one evening, as he allowed Livvy sips from his wine glass, he told him everything he wanted to hear as his fingers slipped up the leg of his shorts. I love you. I'll provide for you. I'll keep you safe. Marry me and you'll never have to see your family again.

He likes to think it was the first time Livvy had actually enjoyed himself in sex. His fingers alone brought him over time and again. By the time he got his cock in him, he was begging for it. Like a slut. Not a bad quality in a wife, as long as you can keep them only slutty with you. Better than a frigid bitch.

The morning sun came through the slats and made burning gold of his sleepy eyes. It was a sight he felt priviledged to see several more times over the years. Always, it strengthened his resolve. His wife.

Several August 22s passed but eventually there came a one where his Livvy, still shy and thumb-fumbling but lovely to see like a doe in human skin, became legal and left his home for his that very day. The phone rang incessantly, leaving messages to be deleted. The rest of the birth control landed in the trash.

Only a few months have passed since their wedding night but it feels like they have been married forever. Livvy is so meek there's hardly been any transition on his end of things; nothing new is added to the loft, no need for moving, and he's used by now to waking up with him. Maybe rather than 'married forever' what he actually feels is that nothing changed. It makes a certain sense. In his heart, he and Livvy have been married for five years already. No, nothing new at all.

Besides finally being able to come inside him unprotected, of course. He'd been doing that in his heart every time they lay together too, but it's so much more exciting to know that Livvy's womb is fertile for him, ready to bear their pretty babies. He keeps careful note of his reproductive cycle in his phone calender as well, for that extra burst of excitement when he knows his body most wants to be bred.

Hasn't happened yet. But he's done his research. It can take up to a year for most couples to conceive. And they've both been examined, just in case. No worries.

That business last night with the dog, though... it has shaken things up a little. It was the only thing Livvy asked of him as a wedding gift, his father apparently having been verboten on pets of any kind, and has been taking care of it on his own. So up to this point it had barely made any impression on him either. Spot, huh.

It makes him feel scuzzier than he'd like, like he's a slut like his Livvy, to still be getting kinda hot thinking about it. But it's not like it was the dog he was into, of course. Just the sight of poor easy Livvy coming wave after wave with a dog's tongue between his legs. Can't blame a man for responding to that.

Or for wanting to see a little bit more.

"Oh god--baby!" Livvy whimpers in the same instant his pussy starts hungrily clutching around his cock, choking on every drop of baby batter he has to give it. Most of it backflows between their legs. Livvy shivers reflexively down from his shoulders, making his back muscles almost flutter. "You came in me again..."

He yawns as he leisurely withdraws, watching even more drip out from his fourth load. "Last time for tonight, I think. I'm bushed."

"I'll say." Livvy makes a helpless giggly sound and pushes from his palms to flop over onto his back. His face is flushed, radiant, allowing. "What's got you so energetic tonight?"

"That's just the effect you have on me."

Livvy shakes his head a little, his version of a disbelieving eyeroll. He looks like he has more to say but wisely decides to keep it to himself. As meek as Livvy usually is, he's been getting too comfortable lately with how long they've known each other. Sometimes his mouth gets a bit smart for its own good.

Instead he sits up and sweeps his hand over the bedspread, looking for something.

"Actually, Livvy," he starts, "I was thinking no panties tonight."

'No?' Livvy mouthes. Expression suddenly blank despite the high color, waiting, expectant. Even his hand freezes in place.

"Too many nights like that, I was thinking you might get a UTI or something. So we'll just use the pillow."

Livvy is still a moment longer, questions and observations obviously running through his head ('you never cared about that before' chief among them), but he lays back down without a single word. His hands primly clasp together over his sweaty belly, waiting.

So he retrieves the pillow they'd been using from the side of the bed and pushes it in beneath Livvy's trembling thighs and raised hips. Even before his eyes, some of the excess runs off his puffy slit and onto the pillow before his ass comes back down on it. Irresistible. Hopefully 'ol Spot will feel the same.

He lays out the nightie he took off his wifey to lay on so he's not too uncomfortable. He hates laying on the wet spot, but on a night as active as this one pretty much the entire sheet is damp. The silk and lace feel nice on his cock anyway, like a whisper of Livvy. And as worn out as he is it doesn't take long to doze off.

The first mattress creak snaps him out of it. Blood rushes from his startled-awake head into his cock in milliseconds, leaving him feeling both horny and a little faint.

Spot's nose is snuffling into its master's folds like it was a bowl of premium can food. Probably snorting cocksnot up its snout the way it's going but it doesn't seem bothered. He is amazed this is happening on the first try, though. In some muttlike fashion it must desire its owner, and awaited this opportunity.

He gets into position as he did before, cradling Livvy's head close to his chest. His hips are awkwardly put out so he doesn't prod him with an erection that might seem suspicious, given their prolonged festivities tonight.

Spot gives a long, slow lick from bottom to top, dragging over the little clitty before flicking over the pubic mound. Livvy jerks in his sleep, with a cute squeak. Over-sensitive, must be, his sex still looks all red and puffy, poor baby.

In this state, it might be too much to hope he sleeps the whole way through. The possibility makes him hold onto Livvy more securely. His heart pounds. Could happen, it could, then what? Well, nothing would be really different. Sit back and enjoy; he's not the slut, after all, getting off from a dog. 

Spot only gets a few more licks in before Livvy tries to bring his knees together, and his hips jerk from side to side like he'd been touched with a branding iron instead. No 'no' from his mouth. Not awake yet. His body still feels heavy and boneless. Then again, he might go along with things if he _was_ awake, but his body has never lied to him. No betting on how long it'll last, not when he's squirming so much.

Livvy doesn't do anything drastic when it happens, all of ten, fifteen seconds later. No screaming or jumping up. Tension goes through his body, turning it hard and stiff in his arms, hard to hold, doesn't even wriggle.

He whispers in a shaky, delicate voice, about to fall apart. "Spot? Spottie, no..." And reaches his arm out. Without being able to sit up he can't really push the mutt away, just put some pressure on its head. But as soon as he tries a low rumble comes from Spot's vicinity (or Spot himself? this dumb dog?) and his hand jerks back up. He whispers Spot's name again, urgent, maybe even angrily, but dares no more.

Fortunately nothing happens. Spot ignores him and keeps slurping away. If he'd growled again, he might be forced to 'wake up' and end the game to keep it from mauling his wifey. Bad enough if it got his hand. He'd beat it with a bat if it ruined his wifey's pretty face. Or if it went for the nearest target? Just thinking of it sends a dull pulse of rage through his body.

Livvy starts making little dismayed noises in his throat. His legs shiver, not just from fear, judging by the clenching of his belly. If he was still asleep he'd have come already, he's that easy; so he's obviously keeping himself back. He wonders for the first time (usually the idea makes him too jealous) if his family sessions went along these lines. Knowing he shouldn't come, fighting it, coming anyway. Perhaps the archetypal painful rape was to his preference. Or maybe even that would make him come? He should surprise Livvy with a few questions while fucking him some time.

The shivering increases and spreads until he's quivering like a scared rabbit in his arms. The slurping between his legs is only getting noisier and now when Spot stops to lick his chops or the inside of Livvy's thigh, its muzzle is sticky with webs of pre-come. Whole strands connect the two, snout to Livvy's poor raw-looking sex. It is by now as red as a tomato and plump as cushions, the outer labia parted easily to show his eager inner bits.

He feels his whole body quivering in his arms, chest rising in shaky attempts at deep breathing but always shocked into another whimper. Poor baby really is trying not to be a slut, he realizes. But he is what he is, and sooner or later, whether he wants to admit it or not...

Spot pulls away again, all the way off the bed. His toes can be heard clacking on the floor. Livvy sighs heavily, though he feels disappointed himself. Suppose a reproduction of last time was too much to ask for. And now Livvy will have his guard up at night. Well--

The dog jumps up again, all four feet again, cock poking out obviously from its sheath. Livvy yelps in a voice strangled at the last second, and tries too late to close and bring his legs up to protect himself. They close instead around the dog's sides.

Spot eagerly thrusts its hips, with blind doggy instinct knowing there's a bitch in heat beneath it. His cock rams into Livvy's vulva a number of times (each time, he does not miss seeing, Livvy's hips jerk up) before hitting home.

Livvy claps his hands over his mouth and screams behind his teeth as his precious pet mercilessly rails his fat little pussy, stuffing it full of dog cock. There's no impression of decorum about this scene, nothing humanistic. It's a horny animal that found a hole to get off in. That's all.

The sound of wet smacking in the room grows more pronounced. Livvy chants 'nononono' into his skin like a prayer. Then his back bows reluctantly, his navel trembles like a leaf, and if he could see his eyes over the burnished tops of his cheeks he'd surely be crossing them. It's his sudden desperate quiet that tells him that he's coming though; silence interrupted by the dog's huffing and a single quivering squeak.

Oh, Livvy. It'd be sad he married such a slut if it wasn't such fun.

Spot continues fucking into him, heedless of what pleasure its bitch may or may not be experiencing. That's a second-place concern for a creature that only cares about fucking for its own pleasure and to propagate its species. It's going at such a pace Livvy can't even come down properly. As soon as he starts breathing at all again it's in fits and starts inbetween sweetly choked sobs. He inevitably comes again, back arching so hard it pushes him back into him and--

clenches his teeth into his best attempt at turning a scream into a relatively quiet moan and _squirts_ on the cock pistoning inside him, mostly matting its belly fur with it but also creaming his own belly fairly well. The sight is so overwhelming he comes untouched all over the inside of the blanket. The whore didn't just come, he loved it! He can't give him that sad little face he does when he makes him mad anymore. He knows exactly what he's done to deserve it.

Spot has displayed admirable stamina to this point for a mutt--he knows for himself how good Livvy feels when he's all het-up--but now the ball is descending and Livvy either doesn't notice or care by this point because his legs are limp and open as he sniffles. He jerks back into awareness when it starts pounding into his cunt but he seems to figure 'what's the point?' and covers his face with his hands as it pops in, and Spot mates him proper with a swingabout.

It's hard to be still for the next ten or fifteen so minutes. He wants nothing more than another fuck at his wife and is restless with the knowledge he shouldn't until at least the morning to be less obvious. Spot's balls visibly shift as he dumps his load into Livvy's body, which is waiting to be bred one way or the other. He almost laughs at the thought that that makes them love rivals. Perhaps Spot wants Livvy's beauty for his own puppies, little russet-coat mutts with wolf eyes.

Spot slips out without ceremony once he's had his way and walks off, to his bed like normal by the sound of it. Doesn't even give Livvy the comfort of going to another area. But that's a mutt, no concern for others at all. Livvy almost immediately gets up after the dog has settled and soon the shower faucet goes off. He's sorely tempted to follow just to fill Livvy back up if he's going to wash everything out of him, as he's no doubt doing. He does wonder if that would be all though. Maybe while washing he thinks about how dirty-good what happened was, touches himself, hates himself, but ends up fingering himself to another climax anyway, now that it is all surely in the past.

He does seem to be in there a long time.

Eventually Livvy curls back into bed with him, warm and smelling like oranges and cinnamon, his Livvy who he's just renting out for a while.


	3. Chapter 3

A few months have passed and he has yet to get bored. Livvy is just too fun (and lately he has started the smallest belly-pooch that five different tests have confirmed so he no longer has to worry about _that_ aspect) and he thinks he's getting used to it, despite himself. Or maybe he's just getting worn down to a frazzle.

Every day and night he's turned-on enough by Livvy's belly and the thought of their baby inside that he takes him what feels like every other hour. Over their breakfast, in the car, in the shower, over dinner, and then in their marriage bed, followed by Spot most nights shortly after. Livvy does not try to struggle like he did the first time. And when he cries after, it just sounds like he's making exhausted noises. 

Things have gotten sweeter lately between the two of them, as well. He's been in a great mood since Livvy's conceiving, and more indulgent as a result. They've eaten out at nice restaurants more, and at the doctor's office they make the sweetest couple you can imagine. Bruises fade. Livvy only stares at him when he asks him what he'd like as a gift, so he goes the practical route and buys new clothing for him to grow into, even shoes.

Not that he wears anything most of the day, now. They fuck so often it's easier for him to stay naked until clothing is a necessity. It's fine. He likes coming home from work and seeing him still curled-up on the couch, sweat dried on his skin and hair all-mussed, brown then embers of red where the fading sunlight hits it. And then, welcome home, his long legs stretch out and his eyes flutter open. 

Those gorgeous eyes. All his.

Spot, in an unusual display of good-boyness, is no more attached to Livvy than it had been. Maybe it knows the bitch's pup isn't its, and thus there is no need to be territorial. It doesn't even seem more protective, in the way you hear dogs can get when their owner is pregnant.

But he's known all along what Livvy is. When he returns to his roots, he's barely even disappointed. But with a dog at least he can say it's pregnancy hormones, a simple need to get off more. Another man would be a true betrayal.

It's the night Livvy wakes him up whispering his name, one hand softly pushing at his shoulder. It rouses him (and he only cares as much) only to a drowsy, barely conscious state. If it was something serious he wouldn't be mumbling at him, so then who cares. 

After a moment Livvy gets up, and _that_ gets to him, just a little. He hears his feet pad off in the wrong direction for a pee, if that's what he needs. Curious. Where could he be going off to then? After a few minutes pass he's bothered enough to get himself up and see what's going on. So he rubs the sleep out of his eyes--just past midnight, if it's something dumb he's going to kill him--and drags his leaden limbs out of bed. Can't have gone far, whatever he's doing.

His pretty Livvy is ensconced in the little walled-off room where he used to spend the night when he was a child, the closest thing he has to a guestroom. The delicious soft sighing that emanated from the door gave him a sense of precognition, almost, before he opened it just enough to see through. So he isn't much surprised, though the sight does make his heart leap into his throat. His pretty Livvy who had become so boldly whorish in private, sits on the futon with fingers pressed tight to his lips, hips trembling and jerking as the dog snuffles between his thighs.

He still isn't very loud; murmurs, those sighs, are all. The licking sound grows louder then quieter as his trembling increases, and Spot cleans away the excess. His belly, about five months along now and sized like a watermelon, seems to quiver as well. Awfully immoral of him to expose their child to this, but--the idea of his hormones comes to him now. Of course. No surprise he'd get like this then, that he'd actively seek it out. There's worse things he could have done to satisfy himself.

So he doesn't feel conflicted when he reaches for his cock, excepting a passing thought that he's getting as bad as Livvy. Impossible, he flits it away. He's not the dog-fucker.

Livvy leans back, supporting himself on his elbows before easing onto his back. His hair is all sleep-curled around his face, making it hard to see, but his belly is even more prominent now, the rising hill of life. Spot responds to the change in posture by climbing on top like any cocked male, and thrusting its hips into the shadowy juncture between his legs. Livvy's voice pitches up into what sounds like his palm.

He wishes he could see it clearly. Spot's fuzzy plums smacking into Livvy's slit, and its fat alien cock plowing into the cotton-candy cunt that's hardly changed since he was a child. Delicacy to the point of melting.

His hand runs back and forth easily over his dick. Already wet. Livvy is being so very very naughty, even in his state, to willingly spread his legs like this.

The dog turns to knot Livvy and their eyes meet, his and its. The gleam in its eyes is the most visible thing in the room beside its lolling pink tongue. It looks like it's smiling at him. Sharing a little secret.

He bites down on his lip and freezes, muscles burning, as he comes into his cupped hands. His lungs ache with the need to breathe and once he starts again, it takes all he has not to heave in and out.

A little light-hearted, he goes back to their bed and breathes nice and deep in preparation, sucking down his own mess. An eternity of five minutes later the shower turns on. And not soon after Livvy slides back into bed with him, skin against his feeling as light and cool as a daisy.

He shifts a little, as if just stirring, and rolls over. Eyes half-open, just enough to see wet hair and pink cheeks, he mumbles, "Another bath, Livvy?"

"Sorry," Livvy says, properly contrite. "It's just the baby... I felt so hot. I needed to cool down."

Bet you did. But he plays along and pulls Livvy in until his belly is pressed tight to his and lazily kisses along his hairline. "'course. Whatever the baby needs."

His cock is barely hard enough to make it work now but he pulls apart Livvy's legs and pushes until his marshmallow chub goes where he wants it. Even here it feels clean, almost unused actually, except for some swelling that normally he'd just chalk up to arousal.

"Livvy..." He has to really pump his hips to get anyway but the harder he gets the more he can feel Livvy and how wet he is, so wet for just starting, deep inside where he wouldn't be able to reach. Livvy sleepily mumbles something and tucks his head beneath his chin. God, he smells so good. Soap and skin and orange on a residual heat. "You look so beautiful with my baby in you."

And that's ultimately what matters. Their baby. Spot would never be able to knock up Livvy no matter how many times its knot caught.

Over the next few weeks he sent Livvy out to some happy-crappy classes about breathing and yoga while he hid cameras around the house. Digital alarm clocks, four, that he can place by the sofa in the living area, in the kitchen, and by both bedrooms. He contemplated the bathroom but wasn't sure how it would hold up to steam--besides, Livvy never did anything in there but bathe, so why bother buying another of such an expensive item? As for sound... he's familiar enough with Livvy's bedroom noises and legally, it's skirting a line he doesn't want to skirt. Not that he thinks Livvy will notice them or try to hold them against him even if he does, but you never know what might happen. His pursuit of his underage wife had been a calculated risk for a great gain; this would be for nothing more than busting a bigger nut.

Once things are in place, he gives Livvy a hug and a kiss and a day's notice that he is leaving on a 'business trip'.

"Can't I go with you?" Livvy asks, eyes big and wet. You'd think he was a preteen on his first night home alone instead of a grown man.

"What are you worried about? It's just a few nights, and Spot will be here to protect you."

Spot woofs at the sound of its name and flops onto its other side. Livvy doesn't seem encouraged but he knows how things are. Even if it means staying in 24/7.

He leaves the next day and settles himself in the room he’ll be staying at for at least a week. It should be a long enough stretch to get what he wants, let Lizzy get nice and comfortable at home without him. 

He checks the cameras periodically throughout the day. Perhaps his absence has made Livvy recall some semblance of morality; nothing untoward, that he sees, happens on days one and two. Livvy continues acting like an actual little housewife, doing chores, taking care of Spot, bringing in the mail, all the things he’d expect him to do. It makes him feel a little proud, even though it’s just what is expected of a stay-at-home spouse. Livvy doesn’t even touch himself at night.

But he regresses finally in the third day’s evening. He appears in view from view walking past their bedroom and into the guest room, walking slow and head downcast, in a nightgown that makes him look like a child even with his ripe belly.

Next point of view is from the bedside. It captures a slightly blurry Livvy walking into the room, then—a little more clear—closer as he climbs onto the bed and gets into prime dog-mating position, ass up and shoulders low. His nightgown rides up (or down, in this pose), revealing the small of his back and tender round buttocks.

Spot’s head pops up at the side of the bed. Its tongue flicks out thoughtlessly, brushing a bare forearm and a curl of hair before ducking out of view again. Next it comes up by Livvy’s rear, paws gripping below Livvy’s hips with an almost human smoothness. 

Thinking of how often they’ve done this that it’d get so practiced almost makes him mad again, but he redirects it into thoughts of what another verification this is of what his Livvy is like. Better a dog than another man—still, it is too bad.

Livvy’s head falls naturally into his arms, not face-down and hiding, just to the side. Facing the camera, even. Even with no one around he bothers to look like a distressed maiden, with a sweetly bitten lower lip, and eyes half-closed with fluttering lashes. Is he still trying to keep quiet? He’s good at making those moany throaty noises so it’s not like he’d have to really open his mouth.

A soundtrack rises in his mind composed from bits and pieces of all the times they’ve fucked, all the noises he’s heard from that silky throat, from jagged wails to drawn-out buttery moans. God, his dick hurts. That’s the worst part of this; having to resort to jerking off like a single man. At least when he did it before he knew he could get it wet soon.

A long strand of dog slobber hangs pendulously from Spot’s mouth before breaking off and landing in Livvy’s hair. It looks like the first load of a come shot. Dumb mutt looks so blissed-out and smug about it, with its stupid dog face all smiling and drooly.

Livvy signals an orgasm with his face going all wobbly and crap, why didn’t he put a camera on the dresser so he could see him getting it? Stupid, stupid. Spot turns a leg over his ass and goes pretty still for as enthusiastically as it was railing him. 

His bad Livvy’s cunt, all full of dog spooge even though he’s carrying his baby... crap, coming.

He shoots his dick all over the monitor, too horny (and feeling a little left out) at the moment to think any better of it. When he gets back home he’s going to tie him to a pole, strap a vibrator the size of Big Ben in his cooch, and leave it on until he’s begging for his hard human male dick.

The next few days follow that pattern. Late in the day, Livvy waiting to be taken and Spot taking what it wants. He still watches throughout the morn and noon, on and off between meals and stretching and his legs. Just in case, partly, but also because he is missing at least the sight of him. Ever since they’ve _been_ together, they’ve been together. Livvy isn’t the most scintillating conversationalist but the absence of his mild presence is still noticeable.

He wonders how much Livvy misses him. That he does, is unquestionable. But he can’t see in these static viewpoints what he might be feeling except an increasing aura of restlessness. Pacing. Sitting in the couch, toes tapping, knees bouncing, books lifted and put back down. A few quick sessions in bed with his hand between his legs. He’s never seen his Livvy quite like this.

It must be blindingly obvious to a dog, with its sharper sense of smell. 

He is settling in the morning at his table with a cup of joe when something new happens. He finds Livvy quickly, standing at the kitchen sink, washing breakfast dishes with unusual ferocity. Spot lingers behind him, tail wagging almost thoughtfully back and forth. 

When it sticks its nose up Livvy's nightgown, he doesn't think much of it. Dogs are forever doing that kind of thing, and no doubt theirs has picked up some particularly bad habits. A smack on the nose and it'll stop. 

He does not expect his ‘I-only-sin-at-night’ Livvy to spread his legs out to accommodate.

He even leans forward to rest his arms on the counter so his ass is pushed out more. The edge of his nightie is a tantalizing cover for all the action. The dog’s ruff is the most that’s visible. 

Livvy’s back shimmies in tiny movements side to side. His head still bows between his arms, the only concedence he makes to his modesty. In short order he shivers all over, hands gripping tightly together.

Interesting. Very interesting. He takes in a mouthful of coffee and swirls it around his mouth before swallowing. His Livvy is so up the wall he’s gotten even this hopeless in broad daylight. Is it just because his husband isn’t around to take care of him, or is he getting too attached to the dog? What to do...

Livvy disentangles himself with ginger movements, stepping away one foot then the other, one palm pressed down on Spot’s head. The whole time he looks away.

Maybe the strangeness of the of the situation has spooked him. The rest of the day he is his ‘usual’ self. Jerking off in bed, the one-off with the dog at night in the spare room. And as he prepares for his own night, he feels a little unsettled as well, though it takes only a minute to come thinking about it. When he gets home…

The next day Livvy does more than let the dog up his nightgown. He lounges on the couch watching TV, some soap drama on that he’s started because it’s mindless and he is so often restless as his pregnancy advances, in that state where everything just slides over you because none of it really matters and all you need is something for your eyes to stare at while you think. Spot comes sniffling up to his foot hanging off the ledge and follows it up to the parting knees, then the sweetly rounded thigh up once again to the unseen juncture.

Livvy makes no move to stop or assist. By all appearances, he is still watching the screen. But in a situation like this being passive is acceptance itself; even if he’s afraid of getting bit, he doesn’t even make his displeasure known. He’d done more with his timid pushing the other day.

But this position must be ringing certain bells for Spot. It does not content itself this time with only licking, jumping up to grip his thighs within moments. Its hips move smoothly ( _practiced_ ) into Livvy’s, easily slotting them together. 

It’s almost like watching his Livvy get fucked by another man. Spot has learned—not how to fuck, surely, but maybe some idea of what its owner likes, or how best to try to breed. While continuing to look ahead and drool, with its usual dumb doggy grin, it thrusts into Livvy with measured strokes that are unbelievably unlike the way it first pounded him out. From the waist down it’s like watching a human at work.

Livvy’s fake modesty does not hold out for long. Even through a screen it’s obvious how his eyes flutter and his thighs tremble as they remain fixed apart. Imagine how many times he’s probably come by the time Spot knots him; everything visible between his legs is soft and wet, like his sweaty flushed face. 

Spot even turns over in a smooth, gentlemanly motion. And something about that is what decides him (though he still allows himself a jerk-off as he watches).

He returns home the next day. Livvy acts surprised but affectionate, and immediately clings so that his swollen belly presses into him. It makes him feel a little bad for him and the test he put him through: as weak and needy as Livvy is, now that he thinks of it, there really was no chance for him to do anything but fail. So he can’t hold him being a whore too much over his head. It’s just his nature.

That doesn’t mean things can go on like this, though. His child deserves better than to be raised around a slattern’s displays. And what if the dog decides it is also a tempting target? Or his child picks up undesirable behaviors? It only leaves him with one option.

He spends his first night back tending to his Livvy’s familiar body and in the morning crates the dog back to a shelter. Livvy cries so much when he wakes up and finds his beloved pet gone, but he knows what those tears are truly for. And there’s no need for it anymore. His Livvy can have him whenever... and as much... as he needs to be satisfied.

In a few months their child is born, a happy bouncing boy with black curls. He does not think he has ever cared for Livvy more than he has in that exact moment, when they put that sweet bundle of noise and baby smells into his arms. He wonders if the big blues staring up at him will stay that way.

They don’t; a few years time, and they mottle slowly on over to the color he groomed Livvy for all this time. Often he plays with it in sunlit squares from the window just to see them burn like golden coins set in its tiny toddler head. Livvy is as good a caretaker as he can hope for, but has lacked enthusiasm overall since his little sex toy was taken from him. He even had the gall to act offended when he gave him some fish to occupy himself with instead (see him try to fuck _those_ ).

But Livvy still needs him and every night they still bed. Their first child is already so beautiful; he can’t wait to add to their nest, have a whole litter of beautiful offspring, mainly with those pretty sunlit eyes but maybe a few greens for variety. His eyes aren’t so bad, either.


End file.
